n. It could only
be that he was spared for a great purpose, that he might perform a giant
task. He was permitted, untrammelled, to view the conflict, the sorrow
and the agony of mankind from an Olympic height, serene and personally
untouched, only in order that he might heal the wounds laid bare before
him. "The world is waiting for you," Don had said. Paul silently prayed
that the world might not wait in vain.

"Master of Destiny, inscrutable God, grant me light that I may see to
perform the duty laid upon me. Use me, mould me, make of me an
instrument. Millions have offered all and lost all. Guide my steps. If
death lies upon the path I will not shrink, but suffer me to be of some
little use to thy scarred and bleeding world. Amen."

The ominous gunfire had ceased when he retired to his room that night
after a lonely dinner, and even the more distant booming to which he was
growing accustomed was not audible. The lantern of the moon hung above
such a serene countryside that thoughts of war were all but impossible,
and Paul likened the heavens to the jewelled dome of some vast mosque
wherein were gathered together all the clashing creeds of mankind, their
differences forgotten in a universal love.

XIV

The summer days slipped by, each morning bringing a letter from Yvonne,
each night a longing that it might be the last of their separation. But
the affairs of the late Sir Jacques' estate were not easily dismissed,
and Paul, eager with the ardent eagerness of a poet to set to work upon
his task, yet found himself chained to Lower Charleswood. The place
itself enchanted his imagination, and had his mind been free (and if Sir
Jacques had never occupied Hatton Towers and impressed his individuality
upon the house) Paul might have been content to stay--with Yvonne for a
companion. But London called him urgently and inaction grew irksome.

Flamby Duveen he never tired of studying; she fascinated him like some
rare palimpsest or Pythagorean problem. But Flamby was going to London
as soon as arrangements could be made for her mother and herself to
leave Dovelands Cottage. Mrs. Duveen had raised no objection to the
proposed change; Mrs. Duveen had never raised an objection to anything
throughout the whole of her docile career; and already Paul was weaving
this oddly assorted pair into the scheme of that book which he projected
as a challenge to the latent good in man.

Some of his neighbours he met, willy nilly, but the